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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28692765">Fortunate Souls</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/named_Juan/pseuds/named_Juan'>named_Juan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Medical, M/M, Medical Jargon, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:49:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,378</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28692765</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/named_Juan/pseuds/named_Juan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They say, those who spent the balance of one's life together, form a special bond.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fortunate Souls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            A translation of

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28674513">Счастливчики</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/named_Juan/pseuds/named_Juan">named_Juan</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My contribution to Krtsk-zine Language of Flowers. I chose Irish bell-flowers as symbols of luck and fortune. </p><p>This fic has been translated for the zine by a non-professional translator and hasn't been proof-read by any, so if you have any remarks, feel free to let me know.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Why did you become a doctor?”</p><p>It is night. They’re at the hospital cafeteria. Kuroo takes onigiri out from the fridge, puts it on a plate, which is already packed with nikuman, vegetables and beans, and shoves the plate to Tsukishima. Tsukishima seems to be more interested in contemplating how his life had come down to this.</p><p>He awkwardly adjusts his glasses with the back of his hand – his fingers happen to be occupied by chopsticks already – shrugs and, before putting a piece of carrot into his mouth, responds:</p><p> “What about you?”</p><p>Kuroo chuckles and, sitting on top of a table – what’s wrong with the chairs? – bites back:</p><p>“I asked first.”</p><p>How childish. Kuroo is almost thirty, he is one of the most promising surgeons in the hospital but behaves like a 5-year-old. Well, most of the time. Actually always, when speaking to Tsukishima.</p><p>“Nothing exciting. You are wrong if you think I wanted to find a cure from cancer.”</p><p> “In this case, you would have chosen science, not treating people,” Kuroo reasonably remarks with his mouth full of food. “But you are here, in ER…” he raises his eyebrows high and purses his lips, making it clear that he does not know the answer to the question himself. Unchewed food makes his left side look like a gumboil.</p><p>Tsukishima also has no idea why he is here – in the hospital cafeteria, with Kuroo, alone.</p><p> “Why do you even care?”</p><p>He needs to eat. Kuroo is right, it’s better to make use of the calm, which always turns out to be temporary, until the new storm comes. His stomach is grumbling, demanding food, so Tsukishima picks vegetables with chopsticks and starts eating, taking his time, having small portions. He doesn’t want to talk at all. He just wants to watch how the contents of the plate gradually disappear in Kuroo's mouth, how his hand moves along with chopsticks, how his Adam's apple moves up and down when Kuroo presses his lips to the neck of a bottle of water and greedily gulps...</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p> *   *   *</p>
</div>The shift starts with a lot of fun, quite literally so. When Tsukishima enters the staff room to take a stethoscope and a pager from the locker, Nishinoya is loudly swearing at some huckster, and Sugawara is rolling with laughter.<p> “Do I need to know what happened, or I can just go?” Tsukishima checks just in case.</p><p>“Erm, if you are here until tomorrow, you might need to,” Sugawara replies, finally stopping laughing. “At night we admitted three coke addicts, two girls and a guy, all dry as a leaf, with hypotension, electrolytes level screaming of coma. In the end, stabilized them and sent them to Shio, but that’s not the first time in a week, so you might get someone on your shift too.”</p><p> “But, what happened? Never heard of cocaine use leading to dehydration.”</p><p>“Exactly!” Nishinoya exclaims, throwing up his arms, and Tsukishima backs down a bit, getting out of the way of this emotional outburst. “I have no idea who advised this idiot dealer to dilute cocaine with furosemide, and why he couldn’t just stick to chalk, but I’m on the verge of asking Daichi to check the purchases of diuretics in pharmacies.”</p><p> “And what good does that do you?” Sugawara starts laughing again.</p><p>“Free beds,” Nishinoya groans. “And a couple hours of break on my shift! And, after all,” he starts to calm down, a predatory smile appearing on his face. ”It would be fun to catch the dealer and trace his channel for furosemide.”</p><p>The pager in Tsukishima’s hands, which he had yet to put in pocket, starts beeping, and through the glass windows of the staff room he can see a gurney brought to the emergency area. And a terribly looking mess on it.</p><p> “Who is the surgeon on duty today?” Tsukishima quickly asks before pulling the door.</p><p>“Kuroo.”</p><p>Speak of the devil – Tsukishima will recognize this hair anywhere – Kuroo runs up to the gurney while the guy from the ambulance team explains the situation:</p><p>“Watanuki Masahiro, twenty years old, coma twelve, hammered, vitals stable.”</p><p> “And why does he look like a smashed watermelon?” Kuroo carefully lifts the patient’s hand, which is heavily bruised, inspecting it on the way to the ward. Tsukishima barely fights the urge to hiss; the skin on palms and forearms looks like rags.</p><p>“Decided to slide down the lamppost, jumped from the bus stop roof. Mistook it for a pylon or, who knows, tried to play a fireman.”</p><p>Kuroo looks up exactly at the moment Tsukishima involuntarily grimaces, and grins widely, as the stretchers with the patient are brought into the ward.</p><p>“Hi, Tsukki. Never saw scalp lacs before? Let’s pull him, on count of three. One, two, three!” The guy is placed on the day bed, and nurses immediately start cutting his remaining clothes.</p><p>“Only in the textbooks.”</p><p>It’s hard to find the spot to place a stethoscope, as the guy’s chest and neck are ragged, but his heart is beating properly. Considering the amount of consumed alcohol, which limited his cognitive abilities to moaning.</p><p> “Great,” Kuroo seems to be satisfied with something, busily giving directions, and inspecting the damaged areas, until he gets to… “Oops!”</p><p>It was hard to notice at first, with all the mess, but now, as Kuroo tries to examine the genitals, it becomes clear that all the scalped skin above is nothing compared to another loss: an almost completely scalped penis. Looking at five centimeters of the exposed urethra, Tsukishima clenches his teeth.</p><p> “Inform the surgeons,” he orders the nurses.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p> *   *   *</p>
</div>“Come on, Tsukki, the two of us just grabbed the guys’ balls together,” Kuroo snorts. “I doubt you imagined something like this when you applied for med school.<p>Tsukishima freezes, broccoli halfway to his mouth, and tries to throw Kuroo a judging look, but the way Kuroo's eyes sparkle with joy and his ridiculous hair is sticking out in all directions – even after wearing a surgical cap – he can’t help but smile.</p><p> “Honestly speaking, I don’t remember having any choice. Everyone in my family is either a lawyer, or accountant, or economist. I was an A+ student at school. And my dad is a GP. So, it just happened.”</p><p>“But it doesn’t explain the fact that you became a doctor.” Kuroo has already finished his food, put away the plate and is now busy swinging his feet in the air – quite an achievement, considering the length of his legs. Tsukishima gets carried away watching the textile of surgical pants stretching on Kuroo’s thighs and knees. “You could have stayed in Miyagi, become, I don’t know, a dentist. But you came to Tokyo and now you work in an ER. Something is missing.”</p><p>Had there been no doctors in Tsukishima’s family, he could have lived with the illusion that a good doctor is a person of big heart, kind hands and compassion flowing in their veins instead of blood. But Tsukishima’s father was just an ordinary man, who spent a lot of time at work, barely communicated with his sons, and the size of his heart or compassion was on the same level as anybody else’s. So, Tsukishima moved to Tokyo simply because he could. It was easy with his grades. He passed the interview without problems – probably the board of examiners was impressed with his mental strength. And he ended up in ER not thanks to his strong desire to save lives, but rather his ability of making good decisions in stressful situations; he always maintained composure despite huge amounts of information, and didn’t break down when delivering the bad news to relatives.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p> *   *   *</p>
</div>Baby girl is brought in when Tsukishima exits the OP, and he has to hastily look through the data collected by nurses on the run – the patient is one year old, sudden respiratory failure, no injuries, no chronic diseases, no specific medication.<p>Tsukishima is trying to listen to the barely existing heartbeat, but the nurses are too loud and he has to shush them. It’s actually not easy to get in the baby’s vein, but Yamaguchi miraculously succeeds. The baby is turning blue in front of their eyes. Tsukishima just barely makes it and takes out a tiny earring stuck in the respiratory tract.</p><p> “Give her oxygen. Blood sugar?”</p><p>“Twenty.”</p><p> “Get a syringe for spine injection and D-glucose ready.”</p><p>“Ready.”</p><p> “Go.” Tsukishima slants away a bit, giving way to Yamaguchi, and while the latter is making an injection, listens to the girl's heart. A few seconds, and the sound becomes steadier, louder. A couple of additional pump movements and the baby frantically inhales and starts screaming.</p><p>Tsukishima steps back, putting the stethoscope back around his neck; the girl's skin pales slowly, and then turns pink.</p><p>“Do a full blood test and lungs x-ray. Yamaguchi, tell her parents that we need to observe her for now, but in two hours they can take her home.”</p><p>Nurses replace him by the gurney – they carry out the orders swiftly and confidently. Everyone is in their place and knows what to do. This is what Tsukishima likes most about this place, the rhythm and harmony, just like in music. He turns to the exit from the ward and his eyes find Kuroo, standing still in the doorway, smiling yet again. The man does not take his eyes off him, he is inspecting Tsukishima so carefully, as if he is some very complex equation he is about to solve.</p><p> “Code blue,” robotic voice echoes through the ward, the equation remains unsolved, and Kuroo and Tsukishima take off.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p> *   *   *</p>
</div>“…and during my third year when I was a captain, we finally got to the Nationals and – ta da! – Nagoya University found me suitable. I told them right away that I want to become a surgeon and they didn’t even ask why,” Kuroo laughs. “I guess, being a captain of a famous team and a prefecture champion while writing articles for a school's newspaper, are more important things than not fainting at the sight of blood.”<p>When they talk the time flies. It may be due to exhaustion but, maybe, it’s just Kuroo’s companionship. Sugawara also shares stories about his experience on his shift, but Tsukishima never really felt before that the stories were meant solely for him. Now it seems like had Tsukishima not been there, neither would Kuroo be. The sensation is so exciting that it keeps him awake better than the stories themselves.</p><p>It’s probably been fifteen minutes, and Tsukishima unconsciously reaches to check the pager in his pocket. Kuroo catches the movement and chuckles.</p><p> “It seems like this job causes PTSD.”</p><p> “Why?” The question is rather rhetorical – the pager is obviously silent, but Tsukishima definitely is relieved to feel no beeping in his hand.</p><p>“Once, when we were interns, we were having dinner with Bokuto, Yaku and Konoha, after a shift. By that time, all of us had already been on several night shifts which made us feel we were veterans.”</p><p>Tsukishima smirks recalling his own experience – that grand moment when you stop getting a panic attack from every new beep of your pager and start fantasizing you can deal with pretty much everything.</p><p>“So, we made an order and got a buzzer, sat down and started blabbering about dumb cases we had that day. Meanwhile, our order is put on a tray, and they send a signal on this buzzer, and the buzz sounds just the same as the hospital pager! We jump up and literally knock over chairs rushing to the exit. The staff is shocked, the clients are panicking and only in the doors do we stop, realizing that we don’t have those damn pagers on us. Konoha even bruised his knee, and my pulse probably reached one hundred.”</p><p>Tsukishima almost misses the end of the story because he bursts out laughing. His cheeks are hot, either from the laughter or from the grin on Kuroo’s face. Kuroo is staring at him.</p><p> “I didn’t know you could laugh like that. You hardly ever smile.”</p><p> “Patients come here, we take care of them for one or two hours, and then they leave. It’s a conveyor. And it never stops, regardless of my smile.”</p><p> “But you might make their day a little bit better.”</p><p> “How? With my smile? Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima starts laughing again and shakes his head.</p><p>Kuroo looks at him from under his brows and grins.</p><p>“Definitely.”</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p> *   *   *</p>
</div>“But can’t we do it without surgery? What about the pills, antibiotics that can stop inflammation? I heard that appendectomy may cause severe digestive disorders, harm the immune system and who knows what else.”<p>Appendectomy. Well, right. Tsukishima suppresses the desire to roll his eyes.</p><p>This is what he likes least about his job as a pediatrician – dealing with patients’ parents. Rational mind and reasonability is not what they seek in critical situations. Children are much easier to deal with – they are used to following adults’ orders, and, when scared or lost, they just need to be reminded that everything is under control. But parents have millions of questions and fears, as well as a huge baggage of irrelevant random facts, and all of it only steals precious time. That’s why, when Kuroo enters the room, Tsukishima can finally sigh with relief. </p><p>Kuroo, having noticed the tension in the room, thankfully draws attention to himself. He tosses a few phrases with the patient, so carefree, as if they are meeting at lunch in the school cafeteria; he asks about some nonsense that has nothing to do with the case. Then he turns to an extremely worried mother, and Tsukishima can only stand and watch how her face relaxes and smoothens as the anxiety leaves her like an evil spirit.</p><p>Kuroo explains what's going on in her son's stomach, and how they can deal with it, what he's going to do to help, and how much time it will take. Tsukishima listens, perhaps, even more carefully than the woman herself. Kuroo explained exactly as much as needed to keep her aware of the danger, but without unnecessary details, trying not to scare her; without showering her with med terms, but neither addressing her as a child. And most importantly, to Tsukishima, everything that Kuroo did seemed so natural and effortless. He watches as Kuroo leans forward a bit, trying not to hover over the woman; small wrinkles form in the corners of his eyes from a sincere smile, and his grin widens a bit when he turns to the boy from time to time. Tsukishima notices every little detail of this brilliant work and wonders if he can ever behave that professionally.</p><p>Finally, the woman nods thankfully, smiles and signs all the necessary papers.</p><p> “So, buddy, you ready?” Kuroo asks the boy leading him to the OP. The boy nods and Kuroo turns back to the mother. “How about a kiss before operation?”</p><p>The woman makes a confident step forward to the gurney and kisses – Kuroo’s cheek.</p><p> “Oh,” Tsukishima lets out, looking at the blush forming on Kuroo’s nose and cheekbones, “A true good luck kiss.”</p><p>Of course, Tsukishima kind of understands why she did it – talking to Kuroo is truly inspiring. But still, he can’t deny the temptation to spill the story in the staffroom after a bit embarrassed Kuroo-sensei leaves for the surgery.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p> *   *   *</p>
</div>“So why did you choose pediatrics?”<p>They spent less than half an hour there, and Tsukishima knows that everything is under control in the ER. At the end, he and Kuroo are not the only doctors on duty. But the anxiety that he can’t find the reason for runs under his skin, making his heart beat a bit faster. Can it be because of the urge to jump up and run to ER, or quite the opposite – because he doesn’t want to leave this spot at all? Or because of Kuroo who’s staring at him thoughtfully as if he knows something about it.</p><p>“You think I don’t… fit in here?” Tsukishima straightforwardly asks. 2 a.m. is not a suitable time for politely beating around the bush, and he really wants to ask this question. For a while now, Tsukishima has felt these scrutinizing eyes on him; he has coped with awkward teasing and still doesn’t know what’s going on. They often cross paths with Kuroo, but they have never been together on the day’s duty and he can’t say they are friends, or what. Should he be honest with himself, friendship is not what Tsukishima wants to have with Kuroo. “Children are easier to deal with. I don’t feel so useless with them.”</p><p>Kuroo doesn’t interrupt. He is sitting in the same pose, his head cocked to the shoulder, but his eyes no longer smile. It’s hard to speak when he watches Tsukishima like this, not hiding and serious. Tsukishima looks away.</p><p> “We admit people; we stabilize them and then send them away. Sometimes, a month or half a year or a year later, they come back with the same problems. We wake them up from coma and then they die from overdose; we pick up their pieces and they just leave to get crushed in car accidents, we put stents and they go out and start smoking immediately,” Tsukishima brings the latte can to his lips, but it’s already empty and he rolls it in this hands surprised.</p><p>“Children are much easier,” he says again.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p> *   *   *</p>
</div>“The neighbor called the ambulance – their cat was crying, asking to let her in – and when she knocked at the door, nobody answered.” Yachi rushes, trying to catch up with the gurney, which is followed by another one. “We suspect carbon monoxide poisoning.”<p>Tsukishima takes the old man’s hand – the skin is a color of cherries, especially under nails.</p><p> “Yeah, seems like it. Full biochemistry, acid-base balance, electrocardiogram…»</p><p>The old couple is admitted almost at night – found at home unconscious. The concentration of carboxyhemoglobin in blood is about fifty percent; had the neighbor been half an hour late, it would have been too late to call the ambulance.</p><p> “When I retire I am definitely getting a cat,” Kuroo comments, sending patients for oxygenation.</p><p>Tsukishima looks at his hair and wants to say that Kuroo already has one, when Kuroo raises his finger and warns very seriously:</p><p>“Don’t you dare.”</p><p>The hustle of ER makes the time between day and night shifts look like the southern twilight: you just saw your colleagues running around, but when you return to the nursing post to enter a diagnosis or recommendations into the database, suddenly, there is not a single white coat there. Tsukishima goes through the lists of patients under observation, waiting to be transferred to the general ward, and goes on a round.</p><p>By the time he visits the old couple with CO poisoning, the number of his patients changes; three were transferred to other hospitals to continue treatment and one was discharged.</p><p>The light in the room is switched off; Tsukishima glances at the monitors and touches the woman’s hand checking if it is not too cold. He might have to ask for another blanket. However the hand is warm and the breathing is steady…</p><p> “They are sleeping, don’t worry,” Tsukishima hears the voice behind his back and feels that his hands have just gotten a few degrees colder.</p><p>“I didn’t notice you.”</p><p>Kuroo is sitting in the corner, near the door; it’s really hard to see him in the dark with the only light coming from monitors.</p><p> “The oxygen in blood is back to normal, the level of carbon dioxide has dropped. They are alright.” His voice seems so soft, that Tsukishima freezes for a few seconds, forgetting he has to reply. “You know, Horikoshi-san opened the bakery the same year they got married, and he has been cooking a wedding cake for his wife on their wedding anniversary for forty years already.”</p><p>“How do you know?”</p><p> “Horikoshi-san’s wife told me when she regained consciousness.”</p><p> “Well, they’d been lucky today.”</p><p> “I think they were lucky every day,” Kuroo raises and watches the old couple for a while, then glances at Tsukishima. “Fortunate souls.”</p><p>Greenish yellow sparkles dance in his dark eyes reflecting monitor indicators, and Tsukishima once again misses the timing for the answer.</p><p>“Care to grab a bite?”</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p> *   *   *</p>
</div>“Kuroo-sensei, Tsukishima-sensei, the nurse’s station, emergency situation,” the voice from the dynamic comes across the cafeteria. “Traffic accident with several cars, the first ambulance is here in four minutes.”<p>The next hour the emergency area turns into Shibuya crossroad; the doctors on duty are like traffic controllers, sorting patients, sending them to specialists and wards; and nurses take the baton from paramedics.</p><p> “We put a tourniquet on the right leg, tried to intubate, but could not open the jaws...”</p><p> “The third trauma is vacant!”</p><p> “Connect him to monitors, get epinephrine...”</p><p> “Bring him in the ward; I’ll take care of him…»</p><p> “Girl, eight years old, hip fracture, distal pulse is good...”</p><p>Nine people, four cars and one motorcyclist, possibly the reason for the crash, fill the whole emergency ward; concussions, knocked out front teeth and dislocated jaws, multiple fractures and head injuries. Every second one needs an X-ray and every third one – tomography. For a second, Tsukishima contemplates whether all the airbags in cars were broken – what else could lead to this parade? – but eventually gives up trying to find an explanation for it in order to focus on the consequences.</p><p>They are working side by side with Kuroo, only briefly parting to go to different rooms: Kuroo is cutting the trachea for intubation, Tsukishima does a heart massage; as soon as the patient regains pulse, Tsukishima pulls off his gloves and hurries to another room to check an X-ray of a girl with a hip fracture. They don’t discuss anything or argue – there is no time for bickering over which method of treatment is more effective. Make an abdominal ultrasound and send the aneurysm, which is about to burst, to the surgeons. Order a brain tomography and ask to sew up the dissected scalp. Drain the lung and find Kuroo standing shoulder to shoulder, trying to deal with the torn artery.</p><p>Blood swiftly fills up the open bruise hiding everything that is happening.</p><p>“Systolic ninety,” the nurse says.</p><p>"Suction," Kuroo hisses through clenched teeth. “I don't see anything, drain it.”</p><p>“BP’s dropping.”</p><p>“Tsukki,” a quick glance over his shoulder, “we have twenty seconds. It looks like the subclavian vein is nicked, I can’t see anything, you will have to palpate and clamp it.”</p><p> “Palpate, but how?”</p><p> “Like this,” Kuroo tugs at his fingers and brings them to the artery in the wound. The elastic smooth wall is clearly palpating, Tsukishima feels it even through the nitrile. “Buy us some time.”</p><p>The first rib is broken; the sharp edge scrapes the glove. Tsukishima palpates and finds a vessel that weakly pulsates under his fingertip and, while Kuroo finishes with the artery, grabs the vein with forceps, hoping that he did everything right.</p><p>"Forceps,” Kuroo holds out his free hand. “Prepare four units of the first negative.”</p><p>When the bleeding is stopped, the patient is transferred to the surgery where the surgeons will finish up. Tsukishima rips off his gloves, throws off the disposable robe and hurries out to find out who else needs his help.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p> *   *   *</p>
</div>He notices the brightening sky only when he is about to go out for a bit to get a gasp of fresh air. The emergency is still. Urgent patients are taken care of; the ones with light injuries and scratches are sent home, the difficult fractures and brain traumas are transferred to therapy. There are only a couple of patients in the waiting hall. He has a few minutes to get himself and his thoughts together, and he is still feeling the pulsation of torn artery on his fingertips.<p>“It’s almost dawn,” the familiar voice disturbs his solitude again, as well as peace of mind, and, probably, the heart rate. Again. Maybe, Tsukishima should get an EСG. Perhaps, the sponsor of his potential PTSD will be not the pager, but Kuroo. “What a night.”</p><p>“It’s ER,” Tsukishima shrugs and throws back his head touching the cold wall with the back of his head. The thought that suddenly comes to his mind is so ridiculous that he can’t help laughing and Kuroo looks up at him startled. “I just realized why the med commission at the entrance exam was interested more in our club activities rather than some specific traits.”</p><p>“And why so?”</p><p>“If you are a captain of a couple of sports teams and you are in two or three clubs of different specialization, you will surely be able to deal with any extreme situation.”</p><p>Kuroo doesn’t say anything and Tsukishima, still smiling, shuts his eyes not to see his face. It’s too hard to understand.</p><p>“Probably, in your case it’s true. I doubt anyone can look like he is just off the common eight hour office work, after such a day shift.”</p><p>Tsukishima opens his eyes and meets Kuroo’s. He is not a master of complicated human emotions, and Kuroo looks at him in a way that makes him scared. Tsukishima is scared of making a mistake. But he still takes Kuroo’s hand and presses it to his neck – where his pulse is beating up, fast and loud as a school bell.</p><p><i>Oh</i>, Kuroo’s face says. His agile thin lips part and open up a bit, as if exhaling the sound. Tsukishima’s artery is pulsating as a trapped butterfly, and he wonders whether Kuroo’s fingers save this sensation.</p><p>“Are we losing you?” the corners of Kuroo’s lips slightly go up, and he glances at Tsukishima as if trying to hide it. The shadows on his exhausted face look darker but the eyes are unbearably bright. Tsukishima’s heart starts beating even faster.</p><p>“You are the doc. You tell,” it seems like it’s beating in his throat.</p><p>“Well, the patient is oriented, eyes opening spontaneously, showing reaction to voice. Pupils are highly dilated, but follow the object,” Kuroo softly brushes his thumb against Tsukishima’s jaw. “I think you will be alright. But I would observe you, just in case.”</p><p>“So I am lucky that you are a doctor, aren't I.”</p><p>“Yes,” Kuroo says caressing Tsukishima’s cheek, “you are.”</p>
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